A Room with a View
by MajorBachman
Summary: How does our prospective buyer Clarice decide which house to buy?


_Hello, my dear fellow Hannifans. I had thought the muse would remain silent for a long while, yet she sang and I had to write this one-shot. I hope you'll like it!_

_Disclaimer: Hannibal and Clarice are, unfortunately, not my intellectual property, but Mr. Harris'. This fanfic was written without intention of profit. I own zilch, zip, nothing, nada, niente and you know it..._

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"No problem, no problem. Have a look and see yourself. It's a beauty house, good, no problems, everything works. I wait here, in kitchen, okay?"

Clarice simply nodded and didn't even look back at the talkative realtor with his incessant chatter in broken English as she left him behind to judge the house for herself. He had been a nuisance from the start and she hated having to behave while she felt like giving him a solid slap on the back of his head to make him stop. She was glad he had agreed to her not so friendly request.

His prattle was still audible in the next room but he didn't disturb her anymore now, and as she crossed the spacious living room she had to agree with him the house was well maintained and in perfect order. Which pleased Clarice. Being able to move in at once was even one of the requirements the house had to meet. It was also fully furnished and equipped. It almost gave the impression the previous inhabitants had been murdered or had to leave _stante pede_, abandoning the place.

She crossed the hallway to the bedrooms and stopped in front of the first door to the right. A solid wooden door like all doors in the house. The whole place was built like a castle, all bricks and concrete and sand-lime. Solid and sturdy, much to her preference. Plasterboard separation walls were a no-no. She took hold of the doorknob and entered.

The spacious room she found herself in had a good wenge floor, distinct green English wallpaper and a plastered ornamental ceiling, and its sheer beauty and size took her breath for a moment. She immediately knew where the bookshelves would come, where the club chair and where the mahogany desk. This would be the most comfortable room of the house.

She took a few tentative steps inside the room, almost afraid to disturb its sanctity, and halted when she reached its centre. She then slowly turned round and breathed in deeply to experience the room with all her senses. Her movement stopped in an unconscious appreciation of the vista from the left window. A tree in the middle of the grass stood proud and sturdy, immobile and ageless and left her speechless.

_"Reese, get down!"_

_"Why, daddy?"_

_"Girls don't climb no trees and you know it."_

_"Aw, daddy, I'm already up and you know I can climb. Can I stay? Please?"_

_"Don't matter if you can climb, you shouldn't."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I tell you, girl. Now, be good and get down, okay? Momma needs you."_

_"Okay, daddy, I'm coming."_

_"Careful for that spiky stub!"_

_"Okay! And… here I am."_

_"Now don't get yourself up there 'gain, okay? It's not good to climb up and have people peep up at you."_

_"Alright, daddy. You're not mad?"_

_"No, I'm not mad. Just don't want you to get hurt."_

_"I love you, daddy."_

_"I love you too, Reese."_

Clarice pondered upon the trees back home. Some of them were as old and weathered as this grandfather, but never as striking. These limbs and branches reached out in every direction, grasping for every ray of light, connecting the tree with its surroundings. It stood in the field like a _pater familias_.

She suddenly heard the voice of the realtor a fraction closer by than before, but decided against any action.

Her gaze moved away from the window and she slowly turned round further, until her eyes met the next windows and its view on the pond outside.

_Beautiful._

_It's a large pond but judging by the waves not very deep. It probably freezes over in winter; that'd be nice._

_Hey, some ducks over there._

_I love this place. It's beautiful._

Clarice stood and fully enjoyed the view from the room, too enveloped in her thoughts to hear the footsteps behind her.

A hand was placed on her lower back. She didn't budge; no need. Clarice leaned in, placed her back against the man behind her and pronounced: "This will be _your_ room, Hannibal. Your room with a view."


End file.
